Tuesday
by SmokeMyCancer
Summary: Slight AU. Lip takes an anger management class and gets screwed. Surprisingly not smut! LipxMandy
1. One

Tuesday

One

Until today, Phillip Gallagher, Lip for short, could safely say he had never witnessed someone go truly apeshit. This girl. She was the definition of unbalanced. Second only to Lip's younger brother, Carl. Out of the handful of people in the circle, this one most certainly deserved to be in the anger management class that Lip was currently enduring. He watched the girl, as did the rest of the group, with wide eyes and slackjaw. Backed away from the girl's assault on the punching bag, Lip watched in awe.

"Great!" the therapist crooned, clapping his hands, smiling brightly at the crazed girl's back. The therapist was a heavy man, wore glasses, and shaved his head. Wore too many sweater vests. Was covered in old Nazi tattoos that he swore he regretted. He seemed to genuinely give a shit if the kids in this group were awarded freedom from the courts. This guy could relate to them because at one point, he had been just like some of the kids in the room. This project had been entirely his secret idea. Probably the judge would have frowned upon acting out violence in an anger management course, but Mr. Danny Shelly thought letting off the aggression in a safe and watchful environment was a more effective idea than simply talking it out.

The bag swung back and the girl caught it. Out of breath, she collapsed to her ass, knees up, and held her forehead. Her bunned up yet falling, black-brown hair bunched wildly between her fingers. Sitting there, she looked twice smaller than the punching bag. Lip figured the girl weighed in at maybe one hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. But she was tall. Probably five feet and around six inches. Had a model's body.

While the girl caught her breath, Shelly waved the other members back to their chairs against the back wall. He turned then, and reached out a hand to help the girl to her feet. She slapped Shelly's hand away and stood up, scowling. Ran a sweaty hand through her sweaty hair and grabbed the bottle of water from the floor. She drank it fast. Some of the water went down her chin and neck and fell onto her grey and red tank-top. Which was too large, cut around the waist, and revealed the lime-green bra beneath. The girl stopped, wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist, and then wiped her wrist on her jean shorts.

"Perfect example of subdued release!" Shelly applauded. "That, boys and girls," he laughed, "is your goal. Ten minutes of the best fight of your life! One with yourself. View the bag as an. . ."

And Lip tuned out. He was far too interested in this new kid.

Mouth quirked, he let his eyes follow the girl across the room to the door. She reached into the cubbies by the exit and into her spot for a pack of smokes and a Flick My Bick lighter. She lit up despite the sign behind her head.

Shelly craned his neck at the sound of the girl flicking the lighter. "Amanda," he called out, "no smoking inside. Can I trust you to not leave the campus if I hand over the building keys, so that you may use the back door?"

Amanda.

The girl rolled her blue eyes, cigarette dangling between her lips lazily. Tucked the lighter into her pocket and said, "Toss 'em over then."

Lip knew right then he was going to get to know more about this girl. Hopefully Amanda would be back next Tuesday. Because Lip was bored. And oddly turned on.


	2. Two

Two

When Tuesday rolled around, class started without Amanda. It was Lip's turn to attack the bag. Doing so with everyone watching him felt awkward. He took a lot of shit and embarrassment from his family. From his neighbors. But somehow this was what unnerved him. Still, he couldn't get out of it. So he took off his jacket, stripped down to only his white t-shirt and jeans. Put his boots in his cubby hole. They were heavy and he had been wearing them all evening. Shelly saw no fault in Lip's being barefoot, and so Lip commenced to beating the shit out of the punching bag. Ten hits in and Lip questioned how exactly this was supposed to help him. Fifteen in and he felt fury bubbling up inside of him. Twenty and this felt absolutely amazing. Thirty and a few kicks and the bag took semblance as Lip's life, his father, his mother, the public. So he pummeled it.

"Atta boy!" Shelly cheered, sitting backward in his seat with the other kids crowded behind him in theirs. "Now stop!" he called, friendly.

Lip found it hard to do so, but he managed. Breathing heavily, drenched in more sweat than he had been earlier, Lip turned to face his therapist. He swallowed and readied to listen.

Shelly, standing from his seat, began asking, "What is the bag to you? Share it with us."

Lip's stomach sank. That girl, Amanda, Shelly hadn't asked her to share what she'd felt. Lip rubbed the back of his neck. What he wanted to say was that it was no one's business but his own. What he wanted to say was, go fuck yourself.

"Well?" Shelly pressed, patiently.

"I uh," Lip cleared his throat, ready to tell Dan where to shove it, "I guess the answer to that-"

And damned if a voice near the doorway didn't interrupt him.

"The fuck does it even matter?" someone said, catching Lip's attention. Amanda stood in the doorway, decked out in naturally faded and torn jeans, a bleach stained, rolled up, navy blue sweater that revealed almost her entire chest from where she had obviously cut the neckline. One of her exposed arms was inked out like her 'kiss my cunt' knuckles. All of the tattoos were decently done at best. From what Lip could make out, Amanda had a paragraph, probably a mean quote; a blacked out star and an upside cross with a bunny bleeding out on it. No color. She sat down the satchel looped over her neck and shoulder. Didn't bother with her cubby. The bag was green, torn, filthy, and covered in marker, pins, and patches. Amanda crossed her arms and arched a brow at Shelly. Mouth sour puckered. It seemed to be stuck in that position, from Lip's twice seeing her. "Whatever it is, he clearly hates it and doesn't want to share with us," Amanda grumbled, marching forward. All eyes glued to her and off of Lip. Thank God. "And we don't really give a shit, so clam up, Hitler," Amanda finished, jokingly but hateful.

Shelly blinked, an annoyed yet amused smile on his clean shaven face. "All right, then," he said and waved for Lip. "Shit or get off the pot, Mr. Gallagher," he laughed.

Lip bent down and picked up his jacket. He'd just assume get off the pot at this point. Though he wished he hadn't been interrupted. Beating the shit out of his metaphoric life had been an unexpected pleasure. Telling Shelly off would have been a wonderful bonus.

Next up was a boy younger than anyone else in the class. Maybe he was thirteen at the most. Average build, shitty looking bowl cut, and red pimples all over his face and arms. Shelly introduced the boy as Joel. Joel started crying half way through hitting the bag.

Amanda walked up behind Shelly while Joel weeped. She rudely tapped the man on the back of his shoulder, then held out the palm of her hand and said, "Keys now."

Shelly shook his head, sighed, and handed them over. Lip figured the therapist knew that stressed out, angry children are best dealt with a calm and relatable exterior. Though Lip wondered what was really going on in that head of their therapist.

He watched Amanda swing the keys around her finger as she went over to her bag in the floor and dug out the pack of Camels from yesterday. Half crushed. Amanda sneered and pulled out a broken cigarette. Threw the pack back against the bag and put her fists on her hips, staring angrily at the ground.

Lip felt of his pants pocket. The pack of Marlboro cigarettes he had still had four in it. He could spare one if Amanda could spare the company. So while Joel hugged the punching bag and Shelly walked toward the kid, Lip made his way toward Amanda.

Amanda noticed Lip halfway to her, and eyed him suspiciously. Glaring. When he stepped up to her, Amanda knitted her brow. "Yeah?" she asked rudely, breath smelling of sweet-mint flavored chewing gum.

Lip shrugged and pulled the pack of smokes from his pants pocket. Held them out to Amanda and shook the cigarettes around. He said, "I'll share if you do," motioned to the keys.

Smirking, Amanda simply headed toward the door and jerked her head for Lip to hurry along.

Once outside, into the humid drizzle, protected by a poor excuse of an umbrella, Lip eyed Amanda as the girl sparked a cigarette first thing. Amanda took long drags and breathed the smoke out like breath. Calmly, she lifted her chin at Lip. "You live a block from me," she told him. "We just moved here. I saw you outside your house on my way home, Sunday," she said.

Surprised, Lip blew out smoke and asked, "Where are you from originally?"

Amanda coughed into her hand. "Closer to the lake," she said. "My old man pissed off some people and we had to book it."

Lip chuckled. "Well you didn't book it far," he teased.

"Didn't have to, for reasons I won't share."

"Fair enough," Lip yawned. "I'm Lip, by the way."

"Mandy," she said. "Amanda's my mom," she told him, "and she was a real cunt."

Lip hummed in the back of his throat and took in Amanda-Mandy's guarded stance.

"That guy in there is a fucking joke," Mandy snorted then took another drag. She pointed up at the window where the class was being held. One eye squashed shut to shield out the smoke, she said, "Dan used to run with my uncle Tommy until Dan found Jesus."

Lip smirked around his cigarette, holding the butt tightly between two fingers, eyeing Mandy's rack. "I must have missed that milk carton photograph," he chuckled.

Smiling back at him, and obviously aware of his gaze, Mandy straightened out her bra. "That guy," she said, "is way too hopped up on the Lord's jizz."

The two of them broke into a fit of coughs and laughter. Their laughter died off as the rain picked up.

"Fuck!" Mandy spat just as Lip's murmured, "Shit!" rattled off.

Lip chucked his jacket off fast and threw it over both their heads while running toward the entrance. It didn't help much, was actually pretty useless. But the action had given Lip a great excuse to brush _accidentally_ against Mandy's ass. She hadn't seemed to mind, even if she knew what Lip was doing. He pulled the coat away and started shaking it off while simultaneously shaking out his curls. His eyes on Mandy while she followed suit. Wringing her hair and wiping the water drop forcefully from her arms. The ink that had been on her skin was smeared. Lip cocked a brow, stilled his actions. They were fake. He had wondered why on earth he hadn't noticed the tattoos last week. But had brushed it off as either new ink or his faulty memory. Obviously the former, mostly. His memory was quite impeccable the majority of instances. Brief though some were. Lip nodded at Mandy's arms.

Her eyes followed his and scanned the smears. Pulling a regretfully surprised face, Mandy looked at her now ink stained hands. "God damn it!" she hissed, wiping the ink off on the front of her sweater.

"What's that about?" Lip asked, always upfront.

Mandy shrugged, disgruntled. "I was curious," she said, "what I'd look like as a Suicide Girl."

Lip snorted. It was hard saying if Mandy was being sarcastic, vague, or honest. Her face was hard to read. She had a bitch face. But Lip was into to snide women. Tossing the soaked coat into a chair against the wall behind him, Lip sniffed hard and squinted at Mandy's now hard to read knuckles. Off all the ink, the letters were most visible now. But barely. "Kiss my cunt?" Lip questioned.

When Mandy giggled, it was deep and airy. Husky. Lip just knew his eyes lit up when he felt his dick twitch. She'd done that on purpose. That seductive laugh. She knew what game Lip was about. He'd seen that way before. He hadn't seen her jumping on board so easily, though.

"You wanna?" Mandy crooned. A grin spread across her face. Slowly.

Lip met her lidded eyes and raised both brows. He looked around. The building these classes were held in was, funny enough, an unused chapel. Small time. The class took place in the room which used to be the Sunday School room. Just down the hall. Behind them was the cafeteria, which was locked. In fact, all of the other rooms were locked. And that screwed up Lip's getting screwed for sure. No way would this chick be down to fuck in the hall. Lip could tell she was easy, but not stupid. He licked his lips, sighed and winced, ready to explain their predicament and see if Mandy had a solution he hadn't thought up. But just when he opened his mouth, Mandy spoke, stepping up to him and twirled a finger up in the collar of his shirt. She tugged him forward.

"I'll bet," she said, "that the congregation room's unlocked." Mandy put her lips against his ear and looped her free fingers into his belt loop. Bold. "You ever _fornicated_ on an alter, Lip Gallagher?" she asked, letting his name roll slowly off her tongue.

Biting his lip and trying not to crush his mouth on top of her's, Lip breathed heavy. His pants were increasingly constricting. Boy, he really hadn't seen this coming. "Hey," he said, "I love trying new things."

Mandy pulled back, laughing. Letting her hand slide down Lip's chest and rest on his hand, she pulled him along behind her. To commit the ultimate sin. And Lip was all for it.

He was starting to really like Tuesdays.

* * *

**NOTE:** Well there you have it, my first go at a Lip x Mandy fic. Really I was just testing the waters to see how well I can nail the characters. What do you guys think?

Originally, this started out as a weird Ian x Mickey genderbend fic. I was just fucking around. I do that what I'm bored. But then I stopped a couple paragraphs in and figured, what the hell.

I'm an Ian x Mickey shipper all the way. Want as much stuff about them as the next person. Buuuut there really isn't enough love for the other characters out there. I figured it was time I contribute to more than just my otp.


End file.
